


Dazed, Beautiful and Bruised

by indig0supernova



Category: Holby City
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - High School, Developing Friendships, F/F, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-01-09 22:45:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12285837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indig0supernova/pseuds/indig0supernova
Summary: Still reeling from the unexpected death of her beloved mother Anya, Zosia March finds herself falling even deeper into despair when her father packs her off to boarding school. The future looks bleak for Zosia until a flame-haired goddess comes to her rescue.. expect a little bit of a slow burn and probably a rating change.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The Jasia boarding school AU that literally no one asked for! I know i'm the queen of angst but I promise not to make this one too angsty.

Zosia March was 13 years old when her father enrolled her at the prestigious Holby College, a selective independent girl's boarding school with fees that would make the average wage earner’s eyes water. Situated in the vast Berkshire countryside, Holby College produced delightful, principled, courteous and able girls who go on to make a significant contribution to society – or so the prospectus claimed. Guy Self was sold. With no consideration of the disruption to his daughters curriculum and driven only by a selfish desire to relinquish himself of difficult parental responsibility, he managed to smooth talk the admissions officer into giving Zosia a place midway through term. 

Her mother had been dead less than a month. Her parents had chosen not to tell their daughter that Anya was even ill rendering the shock of her apparently unexpected death, even greater. 

Zosia had been forced to quickly mature over that short time. She’d always been strong willed and intelligent – bilingual before she could properly walk, but she’d taken for granted how Anya had nurtured and sheltered her from the realities of her father’s selfish lifestyle. At the time in her life when she needed her father most of all, he chose to remove her from the comfortable stable life she knew and isolate her from literally everything. 

Sitting in the back seat of Guy’s Jag, the leather sticky against the underside of her knees she fixed an unwavering glare at the back of her father's head as he pulled the car into the long driveway up to the grand 19th century building in which the school was housed. The too-tight black patent leather buckle shoes she’d worn to the funeral service pinched her toes again as they had that day, reminding her all too painfully of the memory no child of her age should have. 

The crunch of the gravel under the car tyres as the car crawled towards the building was unbearably loud. She clenched her fists and channelled her anger into the intense frown. She hated her father for this, hated him. 

“Almost there Zoshie!” 

Guy glanced at his daughter’s reflection in the rear view mirror and her stony gaze stared back.

\---

Once father and daughter had been welcomed into the dark oak panelled office, the stern headmistress offered tea in fragile bone china teacups. Zosia frowned and shook her head at the proffered saucer, she wanted to make it very clear that it was not her decision to be here and the most natural way for a thirteen year old girl to demonstrate this was passive noncompliance.

Her father and the headmistress shared a knowing glance that suggested Guy had exaggerated her behavioural issues with this woman prior to this informal interview and this further fuelled Zosia’s annoyance. 

“I’m terribly sorry for your loss Zosia, but here at Holby College we are a matriarchal institution. You will be surrounded by strong female peers and staff and you yourself will come to fit that mould. In the sorry absence of your mother, your life will still have the stamp of feminine influence.” 

The woman spoke with an obvious lack of sincerity, Zosia detected instantly that her falsity meant she could not be trusted.

Guy nodded approvingly, leaning back in the dark oak chair and sipping from the teacup. Zosia was torn between bursting into tears or upturning the tea tray in a fit of rage. This was an insult to her mother's memory. She’d been raised almost single handedly by Anya for twelve years, to suggest she hadn't been successful in already producing a ‘strong’ female child was one Zosia took great offence to. She didn't need a new female influence, she needed time to properly grieve.

“Now I’m sure you’re aware term has already begun here but we’ve found you a bed in a room with three lovely girls.” 

There she went again, reinforcing her father's line that Zosia was ‘lucky’, to have this opportunity and should be falling at their feet as a sign of her gratitude. 

Zosia’s stomach churned at the mention of roommates. The transition from only child with free run of the spacious suburban townhouse to dormitories in a boarding house with three other girls was not one she wished to undertake. At her previous school, she hadn't been popular as such, especially not with the girls. Instead she fell naturally along with the boys in her class, preferring to climb trees than spend her lunch breaks trading catty insults with the other girls. Holby College girls were notoriously shallow and self-important, Zosia doubted she’d make a single friend here.

“I think it's time to say goodbye to your father now Zosia. He’s made an excellent choice for you, I can sense you will be very happy here!” 

Guy extended his arms towards his daughter, turning his cheek so she may kiss it.

Instead Zosia rose slowly to her feet and made towards the door without a word. Turning her back on her selfish father and the hateful woman intent on scrubbing all memory of her mother. She would not become a Holby College girl. She would not be grateful for an opportunity she hadn't gained by her own merit. She would make her father regret leaving her here.

\---

The house system at Holby was typical of English public schools. The houses took their names from influential female heroines; Nightingale, Pankhurst, Curie and Wollstonecraft. The houses competed throughout the year in sports, music and arts. Girls wore a strip of ribbon in their house colour sewn above the Holby crest on the breast pocket of their blazers. Zosia found herself in Pankhurst, the sunny yellow ribbon of the house could not be less suited to her own disposition, and it was offensively bright next to her pasty youthful complexion. The house boasted a long legacy of sporting and musical victories, alumni included Olympic athletes and classically trained musicians. Rather than inspire Zosia, this fact further fuelled her own low sense of self-worth.

The dormitory was atypical. Pokey and dimly lit with a set of bunk beds lining one wall and two single beds in adjacent corners with desks and storage chests in between. It was on the ground floor of a larger red brick boarding house, home to all the lower school girls in Zosia’s assigned house. The housemistress carried her luggage and explained meal times and evening curfews in a monotone voice. Not exactly the strong matriarchal character the frightful headmistress had painted a picture of.

Her roommates could not have been less impressed by Zosia’s late arrival. They thought they’d lucked out by getting the room with the spare bed and storage space but now their fortunes had changed and they suddenly found themselves lumbered with the unwanted new girl. It was already the talk of the corridor, and far from giving the new girl a warm welcome, they propped the door open so their friends could pass by and surreptitiously catch a look at her.

The bunk beds were already inhabited by Seraphina and Cordelia, the latter of whom had festooned the wall alongside her bunk with an inconceivable number of show jumping and dressage ribbons. The single bed closest to her own belonged to a girl called Flossie who reluctantly cleared all of her belongings from Zosia’s bedside cabinet to allow her space to set down her alarm clock. All three hung from the bunk bed posts, sniggering at every item Zosia removed from her case.

Quickly tiring from unpacking, and mostly from her every move being carefully scrutinised, Zosia gave up and curled into a ball on her bed. She reached for the crocheted comforter her Polish grandmother had sent over when she was a baby and tucked the soft corner against her face.

“Oh my god is she crying?” One of the trio burst, prompting giggles from the others.

“What a baby! Why have we been stuck with her?” 

Zosia ignored the taunting and slowly blinked back her tears. She hadn't cried much since the death, her father hated her crying and would at most offer her his freshly pressed handkerchief. She was mostly upset because here in this godforsaken place she had no comforting arms to hold her, no quiet sanctity to read or daydream, no garden to roam or even privacy to cry without attracting a crowd.

“Oi you three! Leave her alone.” 

An unknown voice caused Zosia to roll over and investigate the source. A tall thin girl with long fiery red hair stood in the doorway, she fixed them with an icy glare before kicking away the door stop. She cast her brilliant green eyes at Zosia and with the briefest nod of her head, let the door swing shut. 

The trio paled in horror and clambered down from the bunk bed muttering about unfinished prep work, suddenly no longer interested in their cruel game.

Zosia lay back in surprise and pulled the blanket fully over her head to absorb what had just happened. She had expected the taunting to last until well after curfew, now the room was silent but for the scratching of pens and gentle rustle of paper. Silent but heavy, the atmosphere laced with an uneasy apprehension. Who was this mystery girl with the gravitas to shut down bullies with her presence alone? Even with her eyes tightly closed, she could clearly visualise the sharp emerald shade of her eyes. 

Life at Holby was something she would have to conquer however the task didn't seem quite so daunting after that fiery red headed beacon of hope.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, thanks for reviews and likes! Enjoy this :)

Three weeks into the autumn term Zosia was resigned to the fact she would never truly settle here, partly self-induced through her own stubbornness but not at all helped by the Holby Girls living up to their reputation for being aloof and standoffish. Relations with her roommates remained hostile. She was frequently forced to the end of the shower queue, blamed for any dormitory discrepancies the housemistress brought to light and Flossie’s belongings began to creep back onto Zosia’s side of the room.

Zosia reasoned that if she was to survive five years of this hell, she needed allies not friends.

The popularity of her roommates meant her name was already poison to a large swathe of girls in her house. Relegated to the far end of the dining table at mealtimes, Zosia sized up possible allies from the other outcasts and socially ostracised who sat with her.

Her first choice of ally was an international exchange student called Lily. Quiet yet brilliantly smart, she'd already proved her worth by earnestly dispelling the wrong information Zosia had been fed by her roommates with the spiteful intention of humiliating her. It was thanks to Lily she knew not to go down for breakfast in her pyjamas even on weekends nor to leave all her laundry in the hallway. Lily had subtly pointed out the gangs to avoid, the quickest routes to classes and how to smuggle food from the dining room back up to her dorm. It was this kind of beneficial relationship Zosia sought from her allies. It seemed unnecessarily harsh to deny herself friendship but Lily understood. Like Zosia she found herself at Holby through a will other than her own.

* * *

Breakfast that morning was accompanied by the announcement that this week signalled the beginning of the annual inter-house lacrosse tournament. A team sheet was read out and Zosia choked on her cereal at the sound of her own name on the list of the A team, not even as a reserve. Lacrosse was not played at her previous school and she’d only picked up a stick for the first time in a compulsory games lesson the week before. This seemed like a sick joke and she had her suspicions who was behind it.

“This is a mistake! How do I get out of this?”

Zosia hissed across the table at a wide-eyed Lily.

“Problem, Miss March?”

Another stunning example of Holby’s matriarchal figures, the games teacher spoke over the sniggering heads of the rest of the girls at the table. Her hair scraped into an impossibly tight knot forcing her facial features to stick out sharp as a crows beak. Zosia thought about speaking out but instead solemnly shook her head.

“Good. I’ll see you on the field second period!” She boomed.

Zosia paled with dread.

* * *

By the fourth period, Pankhurst were three games down and tensions were high. Bitterly cold English winds whipped at the bare legs of the girls in their games kits and Zosia privately grumbled about the stupidity of hosting an outdoor sports tournament in early November. They’d suffered a particularly humiliating defeat against Nightingale in the last match and a team crisis meeting was called on the grassy verge at the side of the pitch.

Zosia’s form were under the charge of a couple of older Pankhurst girls from the year above who represented the school at county level and as it was becoming increasingly obvious that the current cohort of second years weren't going to produce any players for the team, their panicked expressions grew more animated.

“Girls this isn't good enough! Pankhurst has a proud sporting legacy to uphold, where is your house spirit?”

The notion of ‘house spirit’ was not going to enthuse Zosia into action. At her previous school students were praised for participation alone, this added pressure made the already frightful experience far worse.

The older girls were kitted out in tracksuits embroidered with their initials and school logo along with the customary Pankhurst colours. They clearly saw them as some form of aspirational status symbol, but rather than imbue Zosia with any tangible sense of pride or belonging she just envied the added layers of warmth afforded to them against these practically sub-zero temperatures.

“Midfielders, where is your attack? And defenders, you should be on your mark at all times!”

A girl with a whistle strung around her neck and a captains armband nestled snugly over her bicep continued her tirade. Zosia was a defender, she suspected at least some of that was aimed at her and her face glowed mildly crimson at the accusatory stares from her teammates. Everyone at this school took themselves far too seriously, Zosia valued plenty more things a lot higher than this ultimately irrelevant tournament.

She shrunk away and sat on the verge slightly away from the others and buried her chin down into the collar of her shirt in an attempt to stave off the chill, she hated this. The sport, the spirit, the girls, all of it.

Over the general volume of game play and spectator cheering, she heard grumblings with her name attached coming unmistakably from Serephina and her cronies. Rolling her eyes she prepared for the inevitable onslaught of bile.

“It was your fault we lost the last match Zosia.”

“What?” She spluttered, getting to her feet clutching her stick defensively.

“You! You’re a terrible defender you run a mile when the ball comes anywhere near you!”

The other girls stood too, forming a crescent around her and Serephina. Their intention was to intimate, strength in numbers and all that but Zosia was almost fearless now. It was true their performance hadn't been exceptional but in no way was Zosia solely to blame for the misgivings of the whole team. She would not be made the scapegoat.

“I didn't sign up to play today and you know that. I’m doing my absolute best.” Zosia levelled.

Serephina glared, she looked ridiculous with a yellow sweat band around her head and some amateur attempt at war paint clearly botched together from someone's contraband eyeshadow smeared in stripes across her cheeks.

“Are you accusing me of trying to sabotage my own team you little troll?” The girls jeered as she delivered that insult with her hands on her hips, clearly out to provoke.

Zosia’s grip tightened around her stick, she wasn't easily offended by insults but she knew she was right.

_Don’t bite Zosia, you know she just wants a reaction._

“You clearly put my name down as a way to humiliate me and now we’re losing you’re looking for someone else to blame. Just leave me alone Serephina.”

She was done with this conversation, took a deep breath and turned away to leave.

“Oh that's right, walk away! Nobody likes you, orphan.”

That cut deep, the emotion she felt about her mother's death was still raw and she couldn't let that slide. How dare she make this personal, and so very publicly.

Upset quickly turned to rage, anger prickled at her temples. In one quick movement she turned and launched her fist into Serephina’s over- privileged face.

Screams erupted as blood spewed from the girls nose, handfuls of hair flew through the air as she fought back.

It lasted mere seconds then Zosia felt herself being hauled off the girl. She fought against the arms that held her back and broke free, taking off at a quick pace away from the scene. She eventually stopped running when she was sure she was out of sight of the lacrosse field and then doubled over in both emotional and physical agony.

Her chest heaved, her lungs burned and her cheeks were wet with trails of tears she wasn’t even aware had fallen. She hated Holby. Hated it.

* * *

“Wait!”

Zosia froze having only just regained her breath, she didn’t want to be seen in this state. She quickly scanned for possible escape routes but before she had the chance to take off again a firm hand was on her shoulder.

“I saw what happened, are you alright?”

Zosia spun around and her red eyes met the bright greens of the girl with the red hair who had stood in her doorway that first night. Her chest tightened again, in the short time since she’d first seen this girl, she’d built her up in her head to be some kind of guardian angel and low and behold, here she was.

She took in the way the light reflected off the girl's copper hair, even in the drab November daylight. She wasn't particularly warm or smiley but she was calm and considerate and Zosia didn't sense the same aura or self importance and entitlement that bled from the other Holby girls.

Realising she had been staring for far too long without an answer she nodded fiercely, too struck for words.

“I bet you hate it here don't you?”

She could do nothing but stare at the pale thin face of the girl with a hand still resting on her shoulder. Her head throbbed and her heart hurt even more but her body felt warm from the girl’s concerned touch.

“Let's go clean you up?”

Remembering the fistful of hair yanked from her head and the general muddy and dishevelled state she was in she was suddenly mortified and ashamed and so many other emotions that screamed at her to run away, that everyone here was out to hurt her and no one could be trusted but instead, she let her tired body be lead wordlessly to the changing room.

“What's your name?” The older girl questioned as they entered the changing room.

She introduced herself as Jac and made some space on a bench guiding Zosia by her shoulder to sit. Zosia remained mute, part in shock part in awe. Her wide eyes followed her new companion round the room watching as she retrieved a wad of damp paper towel and wincing when she returned to gently bathe her face.

“Quiet one aren't you?” She teased, trailing her touch slowly from Zosia’s cheek to her bloodied lip. It stung and Zosia involuntarily hissed.

“You must have said something to her, she’s split your lip!”

Eyes wide in panic, Zosia brought her hand to her mouth and began to back away realising now the consequences of her actions. She'd been too worked up to even notice until now, she presumed the blood was all Serephina’s, she'd landed a pretty direct hit on her nose.

“It's not that bad, sit still.” Jac gently scolded gripping the wrist of the hand that Zosia had raised to her face and holding it firmly in her lap.

She got a fresh paper towel and slid closer on the bench to Zosia, angling herself to properly clean the now congealing blood.

“I’m going to be a doctor one day. This is good practice.” Jac announced with such confidence that you didn't doubt it.

With another towel she wiped away the mud returning the girl's face to its natural pallor.

“All done.” She tucked a loose strand of Zosia's chestnut brown hair back into place as if tying a bow on a gift or icing the finishing touch to a cake.

Zosia involuntarily leaned her cheek into Jac’s hand, it was a comforting intimacy she had been so deprived of since Anya passed. The older girl quirked an eyebrow at Zosia’s sudden movement but she didn't pull away, her green eyes twinkled.

“It’ll get better here, I promise.” She saw the sadness in Zosia's eyes and wanted to give her hope.

Holby was a difficult and lonely place if you found yourself on the outside and Jac knew this only too well.

“Go back to your room. I’ll deal with everything. I’ll need to know your name though?”

“Zosia March.” She said in a half whisper, her eyes still drinking in Jac before her and the enormity of the situation.

“Keep your head down, Zosia.” Jac replied by means of bidding her farewell.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Message my personal blog indig0supernova too if you feel so inclined..


	3. Chapter 3

Upon her return to the room she shared with the girls who now would no doubt attempt to kill her in her sleep, Zosia’s path was blocked by the sour faced housemistress who audibly tutted at the state of her.

“Gather your things Miss March, you will not be staying in this room any longer.”

Zosia’s eyes widened. Was she being expelled? Was she going home, back to London and her father? The possibilities swam around her mind, just a second ago she was sated and reassured by Jac’s words and now everything had been thrown into turmoil once again. As much as she missed London, it was her mother she craved not the reluctant parenting of her father.

She asked no questions but quickly and silently began pulling clothes out of drawers and stuffing them into her case. Whatever the meaning of this, at least she would no longer have to suffer the constant passive aggression and emotional bullying targeted at her by her wicked roommates. Yes, she wasn’t a typically violent or even a self righteous person but she _knew_ coming to this school was a bad idea and here she stood in a filthy games kit with blood spattered over the collar and the briefest hint of a smirk curling at her lips that she’d been proven right.

Offering no hand of help, the old woman shifted her weight towards the doorway to prevent the entry of her now former roommates who appeared suddenly and furious, barking like rabid dogs to deliberately gather a crowd.

“Get her away from me. She’s a psycho! Look at my nose!”

Seraphina pouted like the privileged brat she was and gestured wildly bolstered by Flossie and Cordelia. She had obviously been to the nurse who had cleaned the worst of the blood and strapped it up with strips of medical tape.

“I’ll be deformed! My parents will sue you!”

Zosia spitefully snorted at that threat, she longed to turn on her heels and scream at the spoilt bitch that she got what she deserved, after all Zosia had played no part in the backfired scheme to humiliate her anyway but Jac’s last words to her echoed in her mind.

_Keep your head down._

Zosia took a deep breath and tightened her grip around the book she’d picked up from the nightstand. The part of her that truly believed she was being expelled was tempted to launch the weighty volume in her fist at the taunting bullies because what did she have to lose? But once again the humanity instilled in her by her mother and the words of her new acquaintance quelled her temper and kept her throwing arm strictly by her side.

“Ladies, that is quite enough. Hurry up Miss March don’t keep me waiting.”

Zosia hauled her bag up onto her shoulder and followed the woman out of the door struggling past the sizeable gang who had been drawn out by the trios battle cries.

“Stay away from us, freak.”

They spat brashly, as if they believed their own self importance made them untouchable. Zosia wondered if Seraphina had already called her parents and got her kicked out. Seemed likely, wealth and privilege had definitely bred pure evil.

After a moment Zosia realised she wasn't being lead towards the exit but up a level to the middle school dorms. Panic and curiosity mingled in her chest, fear at the possibility of another set of unbearable roommates, this time older and thus nastier but at the same time perplexed as to why her violent behaviour was being tolerated and it didn't seem likely that she was to be expelled?

The housemistress came to a halt outside a door at the far end of the corridor near the stairwell lobby.

“This room has become available Miss March. It has come to my attention that there are several reasons why it would be suitable for you.”

She opened the door to a room barely the size of a broom closet but much to her utter delight- there was just one single bed. Finally the privacy she craved! No roommate! Zosia couldn't hold back the elation that spread across her face.

“It would be better if you did not return to the lower school dorm for any reason, stay here and out of trouble please Miss March.”

The woman let out an exasperated sigh. She gave the impression that her life was wasted on the squabbling of adolescent girls and that Zosia was just another inconvenience. Her lack of genuine compassion or even interest in counselling Zosia through the issue was laughable given the schools ethos but within minutes of her leaving, Zosia was gleefully unpacking and arranging without restraint.

The room really was tiny, if Zosia sat on the edge of the bed and stretched out her legs in front of her, her toes could easily touch the desk across on the opposite wall but given the alternative was definite torture and probable death, this was heaven.

She smoothed the crochet blanket over the standard issue plain sheets on the bed and sprawled across it, still clothed in the muddy and bloodied kit just grateful of the silence after the day she’d endured.

She pressed a kiss to her fingers and closed her eyes to imagine sending it up to her mother in the sky, a little gesture of reassurance, that despite it all she was alright. The action caused a sharp sting in her lip and she suddenly remembered the injury and the pain and Jac. Her copper haired guardian angel. She speculated that this was probably her doing and her stomach flipped with the weight of a thousand butterflies.

* * *

 

Her entrance at breakfast the following morning was predictably tense but she was determined to keep her head down. Vengeful eyes followed her the length of the room to where Zosia took her usual seat at the end of the table with Lily. She’d had the best nights sleep since starting at this wretched school and no amount of glaring or snide remarks could shake the satisfactory restful feeling she’d woken with.

Lily demanded to know everything, she wanted Zosia’s side - the truth - not the embellished tall tale that had made the rounds of the lower school by breakfast.

“You do realise who Jac Naylor is, don’t you?”

Lily said after Zosia had finished her account of the events. Zosia cocked her head as she chewed on her toast, suddenly curious.

“Well at the moment she’s the senior prefect of Pankhurst house because she’s only a third year – which is unprecedented in itself, because senior prefects are usually appointed from the upper school – but she’s set to become head girl of the whole school by her fifth year!”

Zosia absorbed this information and felt strangely betrayed. Was Jac only helping her out because she was obligated to? She had witnessed the gravitas the girl commanded that first night when she shut down the bullies with a few words alone but something within Zosia wanted it to be deeper than a mere duty of care.

Her toast long forgotten, she slowly zoned back into what Lily was saying.

“… she’s got this reputation for being cold and heartless you know. She’s definitely not someone you want to piss off.”

That didn’t sound like the girl who had gently cleaned her up and offered her kind advice. She ran her tongue over the raised split in her lip which was already beginning to heal and recalled one of the facts Jac had revealed to her.

“She wants to be a doctor, she couldn’t possibly be mean?”

She announced suddenly, their conversation had long since trailed off and Lily looked puzzled.

“What are you on about? We’re going to be late for French Zosh, come on!”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is short.. any suggestions for what you'd like to see happen? As always, my personal blog indig0supernova is available for comments too :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I was posting quicker than I was writing! Do not fear, I WILL finish this!

For the rest of the term, Zosia managed rather uneventfully to keep her head down. She was always reasonably academic, both parents read her the classics as a child and she treasured a beautifully bound edition of _Wuthering Heights_ that had belonged to her paternal grandmother. She quickly rose to the top of her literature class.

Already a dual-linguist she took quite naturally to French and Spanish classes and really enjoyed the serenity and calm of the art studio.

Her friendship group expanded a little but a clear rift still existed between herself and Seraphina, Flossie and Cordelia’s clique. For the most part, Zosia dealt with it by escaping to her cosy little room or simply by keeping her head down but it was undeniably difficult when the insults were personal or about her mother. She’d bite her tongue or turn away to hide her welling tears because a part of her didn’t want to defy Jac by causing a scene again or by not simply keeping her head down.

The shining examples of female matriarchs never truly materialised in Zosia’s opinion. The staff were mild mannered and well educated but lacked any inspiration and were no better than any of the staff from Zosia’s previous modest state school. The lack of pastoral care was appalling, especially for girls such as Zosia who were fundamentally vulnerable and damaged and needed the support more than ever. Zosia was starting to learn why Holby Girls were such bitches, every girl had to be out for herself.

Zosia heard infrequently from her father, he was thrilled to hear she’d taken up lacrosse and threw a lot of money at her for state of the art kit and equipment. He selectively chose not to pay attention when she mentioned the scuffle. He had most recently been in contact to deliver the news that he wouldn’t be collecting her for at least a week after the term ended because of ‘work commitments’. She knew not whether to be relieved or disappointed. She considered writing to her grandmother and asking her to purchase her a ticket to Poland for the holiday but she hated being a financial burden and then there would be the issue of a chaperone to fly with her so she abandoned the idea and accepted that her fate was to stay at Holby for seven solitary days.

* * *

 

Of course she wasn’t the only girl who boarded over the holidays. Breakfast on the first morning revealed a handful of other forgotten daughters, of international families or selfish parents. The housemistress relaxed the rules and allowed pyjamas to be worn and the remaining upper, middle and lower school girls to share one dining table.

She scanned the table for familiar faces and nodded at a girl she recognised from her science class, taking her seat beside her with a generous bowl of cornflakes. Lily’s parents had paid for her to go to Europe with an aunt for the holidays and Zosia hated the sense of abandonment she felt, she wasn’t meant to get attached here. Attachment would suggest a meaningful acceptance of her father’s decision to send her to this school and she could never ever let him and his ego know that.

A recommended timetable of revision interspersed with awful sounding leisure activities was circulated and Zosia took the ‘recommended’ to imply optional, and opted to skulk back to her room after breakfast and read. To deliberately perpetuate her own loneliness was to reinforce her stubborn sense of pride that Zosia March would pave her own way through her own merit and would _not_ be made a Holby Girl at the insistence of her father’s coin.

Zosia summoned her own feeling of melancholy, closing the curtains to shut out the offensively cheerful July sunshine and pausing to study the face of her mother in the framed photo on her desk, squeezing her eyes shut and making sure she could still picture every detail in her face from memory behind her closed eyelids.

Satisfied that her memory of her mother had been preserved for another day, Zosia approached the shelf above her desk, ignoring the pile of compulsory texts she should make a start on and instead ran her fingers across the spines of the volumes in her personal collection. She quickly found what she was looking for, a well-loved copy of _W Pustyni I W Puszczy_ , or _In Desert and Wilderness,_ a Polish classic and her mother’s childhood favourite.

Zosia burrowed into the bed sheets, her grandmothers blanket tucked across her lap and began to read.

Fully immersed in the fictional world told in the pages before her she barely heard the slight rap at her door before it opened and she leapt up suddenly, book and blanket discarded.

“Jac!”

Zosia spluttered, an uncomfortable warmth instantly rose in her cheeks. Bar occasionally meeting her eyes across the pavilion in house assemblies or shy nods in the hallway, they hadn’t interacted at all since the fight.

“I.. you.. I didn’t see you at breakfast?”

She was embarrassing herself, now Jac would know that her absence was only noted because she had been looked for in the first place. Zosia felt suddenly self conscious that her room was untidy or that it revealed too much about herself, she’d never hosted anyone else but Lily. Jac’s eyes however were trained fully on her, Zosia’s messy desk or even messier bed sheets just blurred into the mise-en-scene.

“I don’t eat breakfast.”

She said matter of factly, mildly enjoying the creeping discomfort on the younger girls face. Zosia wished she could stop her big mouth from spewing all these annoying mediocre questions but her tongue was on a roll and she simply couldn’t stop it.

“Why haven’t you gone home?”

Zosia couldn’t help herself, requesting more information when she knew she shouldn’t. Why oh why was she so fascinated by the older girl. She suddenly became aware of how dark the room was with the curtains drawn, light bled in a little but not enough for Jac to actually see the alleged mess of the room. The brightest light came from the hallway in a big streak let in by Jac when she opened the door. It silhouetted Jac, giving her red hair a definite fiery appearance and hit Zosia square in the face like an interrogation lamp.

“Probably for the exact same reason you haven’t.”

“Oh..”

Jac stepped further across the threshold into Zosia’s tiny room. The extra light allowed her quick eyes to scan the minimal personal effects Zosia had decorated with. She picked up the hastily dropped book, musing at its Polish title and placed it on the desk.

“Ms Edwards has requested that everyone come to the film screening.”

Zosia wanted to roll her eyes and protest, to crawl back into her miserable burrow and wallow further but knowing now that Jac’s status in the school hierarchy was so high, she thought better than criticising the establishment.

As if she could read her mind Jac added, “I know it’ll probably be something old and boring in black and white but she’ll notice if you’re not there Zosia, come on.”

Jac nodded her head towards the door to entice her out.

Zosia appreciated her empathising, she appreciated being personally collected, the film screening sounded like a complete waste of her time but Zosia realised she’d probably do anything at Jac’s insistence. She quickly pulled a cardigan on and followed Jac into the hall.

“The auditorium is this way, where are you going?”

Jac turned left to continue down the corridor rather than right onto the stairwell.

“Other stragglers to gather!”

Zosia’s heart dropped a little. She was a fool to naively believe Jac had made a special trip to personally retrieve her, because she was special and they had bonded. _Of course not._

_Don’t be so stupid Zosia._

Her disappointment must have been visibly obvious, Jac waited for a second then called after her.

“Zosia?”

“Yeah?”

“Save me a seat.”

* * *

After an unremarkable Easter break, the girl who had once fought vehemently against her father’s wish to send her to Holby College – now flitted about back home in London with a broad smile on her lips.

The start of the new term seemed too distant to get by on the memory of her knee brushing (deliberately in the end) against that of a certain redhead for the entire duration of the 1949 original adaptation of _Little Women._ She’d left her heart at Holby and she was desperate to get back to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As this is still a work in progress, I welcome your thoughts or ideas for future plot ideas? I aim to please :) Also apologies if i'm generalising or butchering the Polish connections, I really like that side of Zosia's character and will bring it in quite a lot but i'm relying wholly on google so please correct me if needed!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi pals, enjoy :)

It came as no surprise to Zosia that she was undeniably attracted to another girl. There was no confusion or denial or self hatred. She simply hadn’t been raised that way. Not by her mother anyway, Guy’s opinion of same sex relationships was probably as draconian as the rest of his ideas. In Zosia’s mind labels were arbitrary, she wasn’t one thing or another. She was just a teenage girl with a crush.

It did however take a while to realise that the way her stomach danced at the sight of her at the end of the hall and the ferocious fire that rose in her cheeks when she met her gaze meant she felt more than just an awed respect for the older girl but the revelation didn’t hit her hard.

Her studies would still take the fore, as would her determined mission to establish herself at Holby by her own merit. Zosia vowed she would not act upon her feelings for Jac purely through fear of rejection and she must steel herself to anything that may harm her. Instead she would continue to watch her admire her from a distance, utilise her as a valuable weapon should she find herself in trouble again and ultimately keep her head down.

—

As with most things, that was far easier said than done. There was an important deadline looming for each house to submit a piece of artwork for publish in the newsletter. Not a prestigious prize but when house spirit and school pride was indoctrinated into your impressionable spongey brain five times a day, any opportunity like this that presented itself became hotly contested.

The annoying thing was Zosia didn’t care. House spirit meant nothing to her. She felt no more allegiance to Pankhurst House than she did to her dentist but alas she was singled out, plucked from her peers who wanted this far more than she. And with a heavy reluctance she accepted the the onerous task, for she knew with a quiet confidence she was talented but no more deserving than anyone else. 

The theme of the brief was ‘anatomy’ which Zosia initially thought would be the perfect pretext to spend some time with Jac if she asked her to sit as her model ‘for the good of the House.’ Zosia could think of no better specimen, Jac was all angular lines and contrasting shades of fire red and chalk white, and she could drink her all in without an ounce of shame. However the thought of even approaching her to make such a request made her skin prickle and as the days passed with the words sticking in her throat at every opportunity, Zosia was forced to rethink her approach.

Inspiration struck when she was loitering among the science and medicine shelves of the library, (admittedly loitering with a girlish intent). A clothbound hardback book caught her eye among all the outdated 20th century textbooks and journals on the shelf. The spine looked toughened and aged, she was drawn to hardback books and this one had embossed lettering which felt nice when she traced it with her fingertips. She checked it out without even skimming the pages, so intent was she on her hunch.

Back in her room she poured over the hand drawn diagrams inside, particularly that of the ‘zodiac anatomy’, which detailed the anatomy of mans body as governed by the twelve constellations. It was an ancient belief, long discredited by modern science but the imagery was so striking that Zosia was inspired.

She struggled to keep her progress under wraps, the competitive nature bred by this school saw that she was constantly hawked and hounded. Gawping first occurred out of a morbid curiosity tinged with bitterness at not being chosen themselves, but soon girls in her class were so impressed that Zosia’s talent may bring home the glory to their precious house that her social status began to creep up. Word was out that Pankhurst were the front runners and Zosia was suddenly hot topic.

Although for the most part their attentions were largely unwelcome. Outside of the class she became known to her competitors too and she really wasn’t one for intimidation or psyching out the opposition. Zosia worked best alone and uninterrupted but it did please her to see even some of the friends of her old enemies openly defy them by showing Zosia positive attention. Perhaps she was finally making that name by herself on her own merit?

Art class was the second to last period of the day, the deadline was the following morning. Zosia was allowed special dispensation to work through the next period too which was usually reserved for prep work. As the bell sounded, the class slowly filtered out, none too enthused by the prospect of an hour of independent study. She looked up from her work as the final stragglers left waiting for the moment she could finally have some peace.

Thinking herself to be alone, Zosia stepped away from her desk to stretch. She walked over to the window and unenviably observed the Wollstonecraft first years in their purple kits beginning circuits on the playing field, musing to herself how much more her complexion suited purple to the cursed Pankhurst yellow. A crash behind her drew her back to reality and she whipped her head around to investigate the source just in time to see the tail end of Cordelia’s Dutch braid disappearing through the classroom door.

A steady trickle of water running off the desk and splashing as it hit the floor caught her attention first as she approached her desk, she was then hit square in the face by the full extent of the sabotage. The jar of dirty paint water had been deliberately spilled over Zosia’s work dispersing the once bright colours into a murky indistinguishable mess. It was ruined. All her painstaking hours of hard work, deliberately ruined.

A fiery rage crept up her neck, she looked down to see that she was now stood in her stupid patent buckled shoes in the puddle of sabotage and this further fuelled her rage. Without a rational thought she sprung from the room into the corridor on the trail of revenge.

“Hey!”

A distant voice called after her, she ignored it, her short tempered fuse had one target and god damn it she would be in the vicinity of the culprit when it blew.

“Shouldn’t you be in class? What are you doing in the corridor?”

A hand shot out and grabbed her by the arm, she flinched her hands into fists. The rage boiling in her head muffled her ears, she didn’t realise the voice was Jac’s.

Of course she would be in the corridor at that exact moment.

A moment too late to save her artwork but not a moment too soon to witness her horrid temper.

Realising Jac’s hold was anchoring her to the spot she unfurled her fists and tried to calm her breathing but the sight of her serious concerned face, always there at the worst possible time shamed her almost to tears. How could she explain this? She was supposed to be keeping her head down, Jac would be so disappointed.

“Zosia what’s happened?”

She couldn’t hold back. The walls came crashing down and a barrage of tears with it. The upset at the loss of all her hard work, the fact she was still marked out as a target and now would probably be even more so because the expectation of her winning this accolade for the House was so high and now her chances were reduced to puddles of grey paint water on the ground. She choked and spluttered but couldn’t explain. She wanted to pull away and run, but once again her fate was with her guardian angel.

“Zosia!”

Jac gripped both her shoulders and tried to calm the panicked sobs and prevent her hyperventilating. Jac pulled her by the wrists back into the empty classroom and loosely held both her hands.

“You need to breathe, in through your nose.”

Jac instructed calmly, staring straight into Zosia’s tearful wide eyes. Zosia cooperated and her face slowly became less pink. Her hands were still clasped by Jac’s and she tried to focus on how that felt rather than the fury and upset. They were warm and steady, her thumbs gently traced little half circles on the back of hers.

Zosia reluctantly pulled her hands away and walked her over to the spoiled painting. In the time she’d been away it had actually got worse, the muddy colour had dried even darker. She didn’t need to explain, it was obvious what had happened here.

A few moments of silence passed, heavily laced with pity and and thoughts of revenge.

“I’m sorry Zosia.”

Jac surprised her by draping an arm around her waist and pulling her into a tight hug. Caught off guard by the gesture, Zosia didn’t react in time to open her own arms in response. The effect was like being swallowed or engulfed by Jac’s embrace. She was shorter than Jac by only a few inches but her head had been cast downward so now she found her face pressed against the soft wool jumper. She couldn’t help but inhale the intoxicating sandalwood and honeysuckle scent lingering on her clothing, her senses went momentarily into overdrive.

Jac loosened her hold and held her again at arms length. Her naturally stern face wore an even more serious expression.

“Which one was it?”

Zosia let out the breath she hadn’t noticed she’d been holding in, deflating like a balloon. She didn’t have a chance to truly revel in the novel feeling of being pressed into Jac’s chest, it was all over far too quickly.

“Cordelia, but they probably all had something to do with it.”

Jac gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, it was comforting but in an almost patronising familial way, not the way that suggested more, the way that made Zosia’s heart leap.

“I’ll sort it.” And she was gone.

\------ 

And sort it she did, in the lowkey hushed style Zosia had come to realise was characteristic of Jac Naylor, the prefect.

First of all, she was quietly informed by her art teacher that the deadline for submission had been pushed back two weeks, thus allowing her ample time to recreate her masterpiece or even change direction completely should she so wish.

Secondly, Cordelia nor any of the others so much as glanced in her direction. Zosia had no idea what approach Jac had taken, she couldn’t imagine she could be that cruel but nonetheless the girls paled with dread at the sight of the redhead.

However in a final bitter twist of irony, Zosia came a highly commended second place. She flipped open the newsletter to scrutinise how Olivia from Curie house’s diagram of an outer ear could possibly have outshone her zodiac anatomy to clinch the top prize. A waft of honeysuckle and sandalwood hit her before the weight of a hand on her shoulder and then the gentle, warm breath against her own ear that spoke the words;

“I liked yours better.”


	6. Chapter 6

Zosia returned to Holby for her third year two weeks before her 14th birthday. She was hit by the devastating news that due to the current political climate, Holby College had withdrawn its international exchange program and thus Lily would not be back. Zosia cursed herself for forming any sort of meaningful attachment because it seemed that everything she loved left her.

Her naïve excitement to come back to this wretched place had been misplaced. To make matters worse, although she was allowed to keep her single dorm room, the rest of the third year girls in her house had now moved onto the middle school corridor so she was mere doors away from her nemeses. She channelled her upset into anger and resolved that she would struggle to simply keep her head down this year. If aggravated, she would bite.

When classes started again Zosia was informed of the news that her new Spanish teacher Señora Reyes, had assigned a younger student that she was to peer mentor. Against her will. Her tutee was another Pankhurst girl in her second year who was falling behind in her language classes. The freshly hardened Zosia was furious that decisions about how she should spend her time were being made on her behalf and she quietly plotted to sabotage the whole scheme. Without Lily to keep her in check, Zosia risked becoming a law unto herself.

* * *

 

When she was introduced to the girl, Zosia was instantly struck by how much she reminded her of herself. She was petite with soft wavy hair the colour of honey and huge blue eyes. She’d written her name ‘Jasmine Burrows’ on the top of the mentor request sheet in a flowy cursive script with a star to dot the i.

For a moment Zosia’s conscience reared its head and niggled her to throw her stupid scheme because it would be this naïve, innocent cherub of a girl she’d be punishing and not Señora Reyes or the institution itself. But Zosia was angry, she felt wronged, she had to react.

She met with Jasmine weekly and planted the seeds of her sabotage by leading her to the wrong tense for her verbs. She thought she’d feel a greater sense of justice for her actions but the truth was Jasmine made it very difficult to be spiteful.

Blissfully unaware of her mentors ulterior scheming, Jasmine grew quickly attached to the girl. Zosia could barely walk from one class to another without Jasmine spotting her in the corridor and launching herself at her, full pelt in a rib crushing hug from behind. The first time it happened, Zosia almost swung for the girl thinking it was a targeted attack from one of the bullies. She was not used to such public affection, the girl certainly had no concept of personal space.

* * *

About three weeks into the term, Jac Naylor once again graced Zosia’s threshold. Again she barged in, and again Zosia reacted by leaping to her feet with her heart racing.

It was 8.30pm and she had been idly doodling on the cover of her prep book as she reclined on top of her bed. Curfew wasn’t for another half an hour but Zosia had showered early- now she was to share a bathroom with Seraphina, Cordelia and Flossie again she knew from experience not to involve herself with morning ablutions. She was in a pair of dusky pink cotton striped pyjamas with her long dark hair, combed but damp, left to dry naturally in the warm late September evening.

It was ridiculous that even still, Zosia’s reaction to Jac’s presence was to leap to her feet, smooth out her appearance and unashamedly stare in silence like a tongue tied fool.

Zosia noted that Jac wasn’t in her nightwear too and she felt instantly embarrassed of hers. Wishing she was dressed in anything but cotton button down pyjamas. Jac was still in her uniform, her senior prefect badge partially hidden by a swathe of perfectly straight chilli-red hair.  
She walked into the room and perched on the edge of Zosia’s cluttered desk, leaning back on her wrists. Her eyes darted quickly to absorb the adorable sight that was Zosia March in her pyjamas, smiling for a moment.

“What are you doing with my sister?”

_Sister?_

Zosia was perplexed, she wracked her memory for anyone she had spoken to lately who could possibly be related to Jac. She definitely emitted a lone wolf vibe, like Zosia herself. Only children who were used to spending a lot of time in their own company have a tendency to fall back into solitary habits as a comfort blanket thing. Well it was something Zosia had learned about herself from this place, one could definitely tell the children who had been properly socialised apart from those who grew up playing alone.

Jac rolled her eyes and tutted, she wasn’t getting the response she wanted quick enough.

“Jasmine, Zosia. I’ve seen you with her.”

_Jasmine!_

Zosia’s face paled, did Jac know about the sabotage plan? What could she possibly have seen that would have prompted a visit? She simply could not go ahead with it now. She was angry at with the staff and the system and the school but not with Jac. Never with Jac.

“I didn’t know she was your sister!”

“Funny that. You seem very friendly.”

Zosia was caught between panic and mild intrigue that Jac Naylor actually seemed to be jealous? Should she play along? Lord she wished she had the guts.

Jac folded her arms across her chest and leant back further onto Zosia’s desk, her standard issue box pleated uniform skirt rose increasingly higher up her pale white thigh. Upon the seeing previously hidden expanse of skin, Zosia’s face turned as pink as her pyjamas.

“We’re not.. there’s nothing.. I’m her Spanish tutor!” Zosia spluttered nervously. _Nope, not playing along today._

Jac smirked as she watched the girl fall apart before her eyes. She had deliberately trapped her where she stood, the mere strip of carpet between the bed and the desk was hardly wide enough for two girls to stand comfortably so she slipped further onto the desk but not too far.

“Relax Zosia. We’re not exactly close. Jasmine and I.”

With the talk of ‘closeness’, Zosia’s eyes dropped again to Jac’s glorious ivory thighs and more pertinently, the narrowing of the gap between their legs. Jac caught her eye and grinned, once again revelling in Zosia’s apparent discomfort.

Jac flipped her hair over her shoulder and slid off the desk knocking over a birthday card set on the desk and quickly righting it but not before she caught a glimpse of the curly cursive writing inside, the give-away star above the ‘i’ in Zosia.

“She gave you a birthday card? Are you sure you’re not friends?”

Zosia was sure she detected jealousy this time but she was lowkey furious at Jasmine for giving off the wrong impression and getting her into this impossible situation. She wanted to scream that Jasmine was just a girl who had taken a liking to her that Zosia in no way encouraged, but at the same time she didn’t want to reveal too strongly her own feelings for Jac incase she was misreading this whole scenario and Jac was just as mean and cold hearted as Lily swore she was.

“She wrote it in Spanish Jac, it was practically a homework assignment.”

Zosia tried desperately to dispel any jealousy, if in fact there was any at all. Jac’s face gave nothing away. _Of course not._

“I expect to hear she’s top of her class soon then.”

In that moment Zosia could have sworn Jac knew, how exactly she couldn’t explain but she knew the game was up.

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts?


End file.
